


Breathing Lessons

by Hello_Spikey



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-01
Updated: 2013-06-01
Packaged: 2019-10-11 03:52:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17439425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hello_Spikey/pseuds/Hello_Spikey
Summary: When Spike's coughing during a fire nearly gets them caught by Holtz' men, Angelus decides he needs to learn to stop breathing.





	Breathing Lessons

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kayt_arminta](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=kayt_arminta).



> This is for **kayt_arminta** who asked for Spangelus, with a lesson, preferably a "nasty" one.
> 
> You had me at "nasty".
> 
> Ahem! Spike/Angelus, hints of Angelus/Darla, Spike/Dru. Fanged Four funtimes!

Angelus tore through the burning wall and ran until the chilled air of the forest was all around him. He turned to look at the house he and his family had so recently occupied, cursing Holtz and how close he’d gotten to actually destroying them.

Darla was already in the trees, looking very displeased, her three favorite gowns drapped over her arm, still on their hangers.

Drusilla was who knows where, but they could hear her faintly singing in the distance.

William came last out of the house, coughing and hacking, he stumbled into view and fell, making a terrible racket like he was trying to expel a lung.

“Are we walking to Paris, then?” Darla said, wearily.

The noise could attract Holtz and his men. Angelus ran up to William and picked him off the ground by the back of his shirt. “For heaven’s sake – just stop breathing.”

“I can’t,” William croaked, pitifully, tears streaming down his face.

So Angelus threw him down, hauled back, and punched him until he went silent. Then he slung the troublesome youth over his shoulder and re-joined the ladies. “Yes,” he said to Darla, “We walk.”

***

Spike came to his senses in the most miserable way possible. His head ached, his nose felt broken, his lungs burned, and he was face-down on a floor strewn with hay-dust. As he tried to brush said hay-dust away from his face, he found his hands were bound behind him with hard, bitey metal. He rolled onto his back to see tiny pinpricks of sunlight filtering through the high-beamed ceiling above. “So. We’re in a barn.”

There was a creak, and footsteps came toward him. “And do you know why?”

Spike blinked up at Angelus. “No mine shaft handy?”

“We’re here, in this filthy hay-loft, because I couldn’t be seen carrying a dead body into a hotel.”

“Oh, let me guess where this is going: it’s my fault for being unconscious. How inconsiderate of me, but what with the love-taps you gave my face, I suspected it was what you were going for.”

Angelus pulled over a chair. “It’s time for a lesson, William. A much-overdue lesson.”

Spike sighed heavily, realizing that in his current state – unfed, bound, and still smarting from the night before – he had little hope of escaping a lecture. “It’s Spike now, and all your lessons are the same. Let me sum up: never do anything fun; Angelus is always right; blah blah blah ‘art’.”

There was a long scrape of something heavy being dragged, which stopped, near at hand, with a slosh of water. Spike turned to see Angelus standing over a tub made from half a barrel. “How fortunate for you, then, that this is an applied lesson rather than theory.”

Spike could feel the coolness coming off the tub. “Is it bath time?” He asked, raising a brow and recalling some fairly extensive trysts that had started out, ostensibly, as bathing.

Angelus crouch down beside him and wrapped one big, meaty paw around the back of Spike’s neck. He exhaled heavily through his nose, and Spike thought maybe the old sod was going to kiss him, but then he was picked up, painfully, by his neck and thrown over the side of the tub. Freezing water soaked his shirt and he sputtered, managing only a “What the-“ before Angelus plunged his head into the water and held it there.

Spike kicked, his feet slipping on wet wood. Angelus held him and there was no way to get leverage to get out from under his hold with his hands securely chained behind him. Still he tried, and felt the impact of his elbows against muscle, water sloshing. He could only hear water rushing and his own choked breaths. He fought and fought, until he couldn’t help it and breathed in a lungful of water. With an awful inner crush, he lost consciousness.

Spike woke to someone smacking him hard on the back. He coughed up a torrent of snot-laced water, half of which left by his nose. He gasped deeply into ravaged lungs and twisted out of the hold he was in. He coughed uncontrollably. “Bastard!”

He flopped about like a fish on the floor until he was gathered up. He thought he heard Angelus sigh, once, before dunking him again.

The second time was not as pleasant as the first.

The third time, he decided not to struggle, hoping Angelus would lose interest, but there was something mad and instinctual the moment the water touched the soft tissues of his sinuses and he thrashed with the last of his strength.

The fourth time he tried begging, but all that came out were gasping sounds and more water.

The fifth time he woke to find himself, thankfully, upright and well away from the tub. He pulled away from the wall and coughed until he felt sick from it, then looked up to see Angelus sitting in front of him in a straight-backed chair, looking annoyed and damp. “Do you know why we’re doing this, William? Do I need to spell it out for you?”

“You’ve decided to drown me. Over and over. Lovely hobby.”

Angelus leaned forward. “You wouldn’t drown, idiot, if you just stopped breathing.”

“Oh, stop breathing. Why didn’t I think of that?” Spike coughed again and leaned back, miserable. He couldn’t even rub his chest.

Angelus stood and walked up to Spike, until he was looming over him. “We’re not leaving this loft, boy, until you learn to stop breathing when you need to.”

“You’re mad. What brought this on?”

Angelus hauled him up by the sodden remains of his shirt-front. “You nearly got us all staked with your infernal coughing.”

“I couldn’t help it!”

“Yes, you could. That’s the whole point. Now do you want another dip in the tub, or shall we try another method? Quite frankly, I’m getting bored of it.”

Spike scowled. “Yeah, I’ll go for the non-drowning method, thanks ever so.”

One corner of Angelus’ mouth lifted. It was his nastiest smile. “Are you sure?”

“Oh for the love of Pete – is it fire, then? Hot coals? Obviously you’ve got something even worse in mind or you wouldn’t even bother asking, you sadistic sod.”

Angelus crouched in front of Spike, pouting insincerely. “You’ve got me all wrong. Here I am, trying to do you a favor – teach you a necessary skill – and all you can do is criticize me and accuse me of, of…” he clasped his hand over his heart, “enjoying your suffering?”

“Mate, don’t apply for any theatre roles just yet.”

Angelus sank to one knee and reached for Spike, who flinched, but otherwise didn’t stop the older, stronger, and not-chained-up vampire from cupping his chin. In a satiny voice, Angelus purred, “It’s just that you put up such a fuss the last time I put my cock in your mouth.”

Spike felt an odd relief. “Oh, THAT,” he said.

“Look at your virginal blush! Aw, I’d hardly think you’d killed a man, Willy, much less dozens.”

Spike was almost certain vampires didn’t blush, but it wasn’t like he could check a mirror. As it was, he felt the same hot tightness beneath his skin as he tried to school his features into a bored sneer. “You’re blackmailing me with drowning so I’ll suck your cock? Hardly new material, Angelus.”

Angelus’ thumb tracked slowly up and down Spike’s jaw. “No, lad. I want to see how long you can go without breathing. Prove to me you can last as long as I can, and there’ll be no more need for the lesson.”

Spike weighed the options in his head, all the while smelling Angelus’ potent arousal mixed with the well-clay scent from the tub. It wasn’t all that hard of a choice. With any luck, Angelus would forget all about ‘lessons’ when he was close to getting his end away. “All right. But unchain me first.”

Angelus made a disappointed “tsk” and got up to retrieve the chair and pull it closer.

“Oh come on. Can’t expect me to do a half-decent job without my hands.”

Angelus set the chair directly in front of him and sat down in it with his legs wide. “I don’t expect you to do ANY job if you’re free to escape it, William.”

With a put-upon sigh, Spike got to his knees and shuffled into position, finding himself face-to-face with some rather strained trousers. He cocked his head to the side and glanced up at Angelus. “Are you going to undo your flies for me or what?”

Angelus shifted a bit, relaxing into his seat, hands clasped behind his head. “You should be able to manage.”

“Lazy sod.”

Spike felt a flush of shame, which, he was sure, was the point, as he nosed about for Angelus’ buttons. The fine wool fabric held a healthy dose of Angelus’ musk as well as a trace of Darla’s perfume. He slobbered all over the first button as it slipped from his mouth twice as he struggled against the strained-tight fabric. With the second button clenched in his teeth and breathing loudly, Spike growled, “Ehs ehs hahllocks.”

Angelus laughed heartily, which felt like a mini earth-quake to Spike as his head was bounced about. He broke the second button off its thread and turned to spit it out. His head slammed into Angelus’ fist as he was turning back to work.

“Oi! That wasn’t my fault! You can’t keep still!” Spike rubbed his hot ear against Angelus’ knee, having no more convenient surface to use.

“We’ll deal with your insubordination later,” Angelus said, and undid the rest of his fly with impatience. “Now get to work.”

“Always the romantic.” Spike eyed the head of Angelus’ cock, glistening and swollen and inches from his lips. He didn’t really like this act – it felt too intimate to share with his blowhard grandsire. If anything, his mouth was more personal to him now that he used it to kill. Still, he recalled how it had felt to drown over and over without dying, and he was a lot less interested in doing that again. He licked his lips and thought of Drusilla’s wicked little mouth, and all the things she did that made him pop his cork faster that he wanted.

Angelus would have no idea what hit him.

With that thought, he ran his cheek against the tip, let it roll into his open mouth and licked right at the slit, digging in a bit with the tip of his tongue. He smiled around the head and tried to see Angelus’ face to gauge his reaction.

Two meaty palms slid over Spike’s head, grabbed on, and then Angelus thrust forward hard into Spike’s throat. He gagged and tried to pull back, but Angelus had him in a firm grip now, mashing his ears against his head and thrusting inexorably forward.

“Here we go, lad,” Angelus said, as though he were explaining a simple point of arithmetic, “the lesson doesn’t work if you can breathe, does it? I suggest you try swallowing because I’m not pulling out and if you puke you’ll find that even harder to breathe in than water.”

Spike felt his fangs itching to descend, but given the way Angelus had reacted the last time he’d bitten his cock – it took most of a year for his fangs to grow back – he resisted the urge and swallowed, hard. His throat contracted around the hard cylinder lodged in it, bringing no relief to the welling panic for air, but settling his gorge.

“Good lad,” Angelus said, and began rocking his hips, thrusting shallowly.

Spike’s lungs burned, still feeling torn and raw from the drowning, his chest squeezed, trying to force air through. A spittle-laced hiss, a faint gargling sound, was all he could manage, and it did nothing.

“Ride it out,” Angelus said, “Unless you want back in the tub.”

He was going to die. The sadistic old sod was going to kill him. Tears streamed from his eyes as his head was harshly fucked. He had no choice but to take it, to feel his nose crushed against Angelus’ pelvis and his jaw ache from being open so long. His vision was crawling at the edges with black insects and he had to remind himself that vampires couldn’t, in fact, suffocate. He’d had it proven to him three times in quick succession that day.

He sucked hard, then, letting that take the place of his desire for air. He’d get the old man off fast and show him. Spike wasn’t quite sure how this would ‘show him’, but his brain was lacking oxygen at the moment and he’d take what he could get.

He pushed into each thrust, humming, setting his teeth as firmly into flesh as he dared, he dragged and scraped and sucked, fucking back angrily. He felt Angelus lose his rhythm, felt the fingertips press harder into his skull. “Oh Chrrrrrist,” Angelus said, and Spike knew he had him. Angelus tried to pull back, probably wanting to slow this. He’d no doubt planned on lasting a long time. Angelus gasped as Spike chased him. The chair scraped back on the floor with a splintering sound. Spike was on the attack now, swallowing, devouring.

Angelus let go of his head and grabbed his shoulders, digging in hard enough to send icy spasms down Spike’s bound arms. There was a loud snap, and Spike fell forward on Angelus in a pile of broken chair-parts. Angelus was shouting something Gaelic and possibly religious. His thighs squeezed the sides of Spike’s head and Spike felt his cock swell, felt the swelling surge down the length and finally break free, deep in his throat. He didn’t even have to swallow, really, it was so far deep, but he did, and felt the stone-hardness melt away.

Spike knelt up with some difficulty and wavering. He grinned down triumphantly at Angelus, who lay sprawled and stunned.

Angelus cleared his throat. “Yes,” he said, “that’s a good start.”

Spike rolled his eyes and turned away, concentrating on getting to his feet. “I could have killed you,” he said, voice hoarser than he’d like, “One splinter in the right place.”

He heard Angelus getting to his feet, the clatter and roll of the loose chair legs. “Naturally,” Angelus said, “We’ll need to repeat this lesson a few times to make sure you’ve really learned it.”

Naturally, Spike thought with another eye-roll, but his throat hurt too much to speak more. It felt like Angelus had shoved his fist into it.

Spike found the opening to the lower level of the barn. A ladder would be rough without his hands, but he figured he could manage it, and then find someone or something to get the chains off.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, pressing hard into fresh bruises. “I said,” Angelus spoke, voice dark and heavy, “We need to repeat the lesson.”


End file.
